


Pineapples, the untold story of the deadly yellow fruit

by Willamina



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Ice Cream, M/M, Pineapples
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-19
Updated: 2004-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willamina/pseuds/Willamina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trip never wanted to believe those stories. Reed just didn’t seem to have it in him, and heck, it was difficult to imagine the good Doctor creating such a device. But it was all starting to come together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pineapples, the untold story of the deadly yellow fruit

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: It's just a little "Oh, Pineapple. My favorite!" followed by a "Give that back Reed or I will be forced to take drastic measures." Honestly.. utter dribble it was!
> 
> I disregard all ST: Enterprise canon and most of its lore. Probably. It’s not my fandom.
> 
> Pineapples are devious tools of the dark here, so take from that what you will. (Read: Multiple ‘Don’t read if’ scenarios available. Also, misuse of multiple commas.)
> 
> ‘In a Mirror, Darkly’ never took place and OOCness abounds :D  
> On with the story (of which, sadly, I do not own the characters....’Sept o’le Pinne! Go yellow foodstuffs!)

 

 

Trip _never_ wanted to believe those stories. Reed just didn’t seem to have it in him, and heck, it was difficult to imagine the good Doctor creating such a device.

But it was all starting to come together.

Proof. Reed had in fact participated in the invention of the agony booth was before him in the form of one unflinching man and Trip’s beloved ice cream.

When once he would have denied that his Malcolm was capable of assisting in the invention of such a cruel use of synaptic scans, now…now Trip was forced to face the facts.   
 _ His very own Malcolm Reed, his saccharine, innocent, doe-eyed Lieutenant was made entirely of pure, unadulterated, pitch black evil._

A snicker brought him out of his dank reprieve. Trip looked up, then down.

He followed a drop of melted pineapple sweetness as it landed on his knee. Trip stared.   _D_ _arling pipeño! Yummy pineapple flavored ice-cream deliciousity. You shall go unwasted!_

With a quick swipe of his index finger over his standard blues Trip brought the melted concoction to his lips.   
 _  
Perfection.  
_

A tiny growl alerted him to the presence of evil still above him and he looked up once more.

“Tucker-”

“Give me back. My icy treat.”

“Trip-“

“Malcolm! Give. It. Back.”

Trips efforts to reach his yummy pre-dinner treat did not go unnoticed, merely unheeded. The lieutenant licked at his confiscated sweet and held it close, nudging at Trip’s shin with one sock clad foot.

“No. You failed to take your break on time again. No, do not give me that look. T’Pol told me all about your  _engineering emergency_.

“Warp-7 capable engines often-“

Malcolm glared. Licked at the slowly melting treat. Then glared again.

“Lies! Lies, all of them! This bit of replicator genius is staying with me and soon enough it will be in my stomach, settling refreshingly cool and content!”

Trip shuffled further up their bed. His sad puppy eyes pleading uselessly for the return of his pineapple snack. Then, as Malcolm licked at another slow falling drip of ice cream it hit him. He was getting his hands on that icy goodness. One way or another.

As Malcolm licked at a drop of sticky sweetness on his thumb Trip took flight, latching himself tightly against smaller mans frame.

“Oomph-MINE! Mine I tell you!”

Malcolm struggled, pushing at Trip and barely managing to save his precious. He turned in Trip’s arms. With a devious smirk Malcolm made a show of licking at the cool stickiness that now covered most of his hand.

“Erm…Uh. That is, I mean. Gimme..Um.”

Later, when T’Pol sent curious glances at Malcolm as they watched a huddled Trip hover near the replicator she would not ask, she would wonder about Trip’s shuffling feet and Malcolm’s knowing smirk, but she would not ask.

Not until after A-shift of course, when T’Pol would approach Captain Archer, PADD of questions in one hand and slowly melting pineapple concoction in the other.

  


The End. 

 

 


End file.
